KAT Tales: The Nicaraguan Adventure Continues…But No Carjackings to Report This Time Around

I returned from my latest trip to Nicaragua with a souvenir – a signed lease agreement for a 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom house in San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, effective June 1^st. That’s a great improvement over my last souvenirs, which consisted of a police report, new passport, and receipt from Western Union. I still can’t believe Rob and I actually did it. (By “it” I mean signing the contract and not some vague, sophomoric reference to matters of a sexual nature, just in case there was any confusion.) Now we just have to sell our house.

When we arrived in Managua, Ruddy and Samuel were waiting for us. It was a wonderful feeling to see them as I waited in line at customs. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and then Ruddy went back to work. Samuel helped us load up the van to Las Mercedes and then he went home. It was so sweet of them to be there to meet us, even if it was only for a few minutes. We agreed to meet for dinner Monday evening.

Las Mercedes was exactly the same. The same staff, the same menu, same prices. Continuity is nice. However, I had the worse sleep ever that night, thanks to worn out mattresses and an air conditioner that never really worked. We decided that it would be the last time we would ever stay there, despite its proximity to the airport. When Rob took a shower the next morning, the water cut off after he had soaped up. He had to rinse off with bottled water.

Anxious to leave, we walked across the street to pick up our rental jeep. It wasn’t a Jeep, but a Korean compact SUV. It was not designed to hold five suitcases, a tote bag, and three people, but I am a pack mule. I can find a way to make everything fit, which I did much to Rob’s amazement. We met Julio, our realtor, and then headed for San Juan del Sur with a slight detour through Managua.

We found the house on our own. Earlier in the day, Julio and Hector showed us a tiny two-bedroom apartment with an ocean view. It didn’t appear to be any larger than the cramped one-bedroom apartment in a seedy complex we lived in when I first moved to Texas twenty years ago in June. The rent was astronomical for the area (it was astronomical compared to most of the US excluding New York and California), so we declined. We agreed to meet with the father of the realtor the next day to search for more houses. As we were walking back to our hotel, Rob pointed to sign and asked what “se alquiler” meant. It was a house for rent. I started to write down the telephone number when a man came over and ushered us into the building. I asked if it was his house and he said yes.

The house is large for Nicaraguan standards. It has a big kitchen, a nice sized living room, an atrium, small dining area, an open air laundry room (but no washer/dryer hook-ups – you wash clothes by hand on a large stone washboard and right away I’ll let you know that I will hire someone to wash my clothes because I have a hard enough time just washing delicates in the sink, let alone jeans), four small bedrooms, and two decent sized bathrooms (but no hot water). The floor is tiled throughout the house. The roof is corrugated fiberglass, though the bedrooms and living room have wood paneled ceilings. It has a front porch that faces the remnants of a building. I’m not sure if it falling down or under construction. Most of the people I know in the US would gasp in horror at the idea of leaving a gorgeous house on a big parcel of land for a corrugated roofed house, but did I mention it is a 30 second walk to the beach? Besides, there is a paint store a few short blocks away (is this heaven or what?) and I was changing the color scheme of the house as soon as I stepped into the living room. I didn’t notice the existing aesthetic problems (save for the roof, which will be painted and probably draped with mosquito netting – that is if I can find mosquito netting, as there is no mosquito or no see-um problem in the area thanks to the ocean breeze), only what I would do to make it gorgeous. I didn’t say anything to Rob, who was no doubt thinking, “Thank the Dog there are no Venetian plaster stores nearby” as I touched the concrete walls. Yes, Realtors love me. All of my homes for the past thirteen years have been fixer uppers. I can see possibilities in just about everything, save for anything good coming from GWB and his cronies.

We called our realtor and asked him to negotiate the lease. We gave him Arturo’s number and agreed to meet the next day at noon to sign a contract.

The real estate market in Nicaragua is nothing like the US. The sleepy little village of San Juan del Sur does not appear to have an apartment locator office. It’s a matter of walking around and looking for signs and asking the locals if anyone knows of a place to rent. We were quite proud that we happened to stumble upon this little place. I wondered if Hector Sr., the father of our realtor and a local resident of the town, would have shown us this place had we not found it ourselves. It didn’t matter, though.

I was careful to not express ample enthusiasm for the place so as not to give my beloved ammunition if things went wrong. The last two houses we have owned he purchased sight unseen. (He went to a football game instead of house hunting when before we moved to Houston.) If the roof collapses, it’s not my fault or my responsibility. I already told him I need at least $100 in paint (5 colors should do the trick) and pretty fabric for curtains. I haven’t told him about the mosquito netting because he’ll no doubt think I’m going overboard. (Though he does read my blog on occasion, so if you’re reading this now, sweetie, I promise it won’t be too weird. You’ll just have to trust me on this.)

The next morning we drove down to Playa Coco, one of the prettiest beaches in Nicaragua. We almost purchased a fabulous B&B there (five houses on a 2-3 mile beach) last winter, but we didn’t get the financing together in time. As gorgeous as it was, we realized that it would have been disastrous. It is a 30-minute drive from SJDS along a dirt road and it requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle and something with clearance. We crossed a river with water levels as high as the engine. It’s the dry season right now. We definitely need a more urban environment, though most people would laugh at the idea of describing using SJDS as urban.

We returned to this urban hotspot and met Arturo and Hector, the other realtor. Arturo went off in search of an attorney (on Sunday!) and Rob and I went to the ATM and started draining our bank account. The ATM scene was ludicrous. We were trying to figure out how many cordobas we could withdraw per day, and after about ten withdrawals (because we could not calculate the exchange rate of 16.43 to the dollar and fast cash options displayed on the screen were the equivalent of $6 to $30 dollars), we had about $600 to pay part of the deposit and the realtor’s fee. We went back to Arturo’s place and plunked down $500 worth of cordobas and signed our names to a complicated contract in a language we barely understand. The attorney’s verified that Arturo had a clean title. It’s exciting and scary and though I know I am doing the right thing, it is such a drastic change in living. I went to sleep that night wondering what I had just done, missing my house in Houston even though I am still living there for the next few months.

When we returned to the wonderful Hotel Isabella that evening, the owners invited us to join a birthday party they were having for three of their employees and employee’s families. We had bar-b-qued chicken, mashed potatoes, salads, queso and chips, rum punch, and decadent chocolate cake. We took it as a positive sign that we were doing the right thing.

I was restless that evening, so I flipped through the channels in my hotel room. I stopped on a channel showing a man and woman engaged in fake intercourse. Hmmm. The pope died and in this supposedly Roman Catholic country, Nicaraguans flocked to the beaches in the day and watched soft porn on Sunday night. Bored by the fake sex, I flipped to another channel. It was a show called, “The L Word”, but I didn’t know the title until the end. I guess it qualifies as soft porn, too. It was strange to see in this country, but even more embarrassing that my own country is so paranoid when it comes to sex but has no problem flashing images of people drinking maggot juice for ads for Fear Factor or decapitated characters for video game adverts.

The next morning we found another ATM that accepted American Express and issued dollars. We had to make multiple withdrawals, as each ATM transaction is limited to $400. We secured enough to cover our first and last month’s rent and headed back to Arturo’s house. It was our last chance to back out of the deal, but we didn’t. We are moving there. We left five suitcases worth of goods in storage, too. It is going to happen. I can’t breathe.

The only thing scarier was the trip back to Managua. Theoretically, to get to SJDS you take a right at the airport and a right past the town of Rivas. If you miss the right to SJDS, you’ll end up on the Costa Rican border. We took a different route out of town, so nothing looked familiar when we hit the Managua city limits. Then came the detour, which never led us back to the Pan-American Highway. We didn’t have a map. What good is a map without street names? (I can’t see many Germans living here. The lack of order would drive them to suicide.) Every intersection was filled with people hawking lottery tickets, candy, water, floor mats and cell phone covers, plus little kids trying to squeegee my perfectly clean windows over $1. (In a country where the average wage is $2 per day, there is no way I’m giving the glue sniffers a buck.) It was stressful. When I wasn’t dodging the perpetual stream of drunken bus drivers and pedestrians and trying to figure out why there would be a stop sign and a traffic light in the same intersection, I was looking for suspicious cars. Our car had an obnoxious “Budget” sticker identifying us as people who probably have cash and goods on their person. It was daylight, but I was still nervous. We finally saw the airport, but we were on the opposite side of where we should have been, which was a little freaky because the last time someone made a wrong turn in Managua, I was robbed.

After dropping off the car, we decided to stay at Camino Real, about 2 kilometers from the airport. It’s the same price as Las Mercedes, but with real beds and cold, quiet air conditioners. Oh, and hot showers with real water pressure. Such a treat!

We met Samuekl and Myriam for dinner that evening. (Ruddy had to work.) They chastised me for not staying with them, but I promised to visit next time I was in Managua, which probably won’t be until I make the move. I brought them decadent pillows and ultra-soft pillowcases as a gift. Unusual, yes, but it was more symbolic than anything. Plus, I know what their pillows are like and knew they would appreciate them after the first night of sleep. I also gave them maple syrup and a pretty heart necklace for Myriam.

They asked why I was leaving the United States, but country, but I could not adequately explain all the reasons. When I said, “Because George Bush is evil,” Samuel almost spit his drink across the table. He’s so sweet. He finds humor in everything, even my political beliefs. They asked how I felt about politics in Nicaragua, and though I have ideas, I told them that it was not my decision to decide what is best for their country. All I want is to make a positive impact, but I will stay out of politics. They have seen enough American intervention in their lifetimes.

As we stepped through immigration at Houston Intercontinental (I refuse to give HW naming rights to the airport), it dawned on me that it would be the last time I flew into the airport for quite some time. It figures, just when the renovations are complete and immigration lines whittled down to a ten-minute wait.

Now I’m home and just waiting for someone to sign a contract on my house. I’m kind of glad that it has taken a few months longer for this to happen, as I have been busy trying to cram in as much culture and scenery and fabulous food before my choices become extremely limited. So many great things have happened in the past several months (the reasons behind my absence here). Everything I wanted to happen in Houston did and it’s a little sad to say good-bye.

Well, you’re probably curious by now, so if you’ve got the time and the connection speed, you can click here to see a few of the hundreds of images of my new casa and the town of San Juan del Sur collected in my fabulous new digital camera with gobs and gobs and more gobs of memory, with few being a relative term.

And please come to visit! I have plenty of room for guests.

Comments

[Christine Baker]

You can't imagine how much I envy you!

"We almost purchased a fabulous B&B there (five houses on a 2-3 mile beach) last winter, but we didn’t get the financing together in time. As gorgeous as it was, we realized that it would have been disastrous. It is a 30-minute drive from SJDS along a dirt road and it requires a 4-wheel drive vehicle and something with clearance. We crossed a river with water levels as high as the engine."

That's my kind of place! How much was it?

I was just looking on the web for real estate in Nicaragua, reading up on Granada and Matagalpa.

For over 2 years I've been planning on checking out Nicaragua, but I don't fly and I take my dog everywhere. I planned on taking my truckcamper, but I've never found anything on camping in Central America.

Maybe I just have to get going and I'll find out.

Saw your pictures too, too cool!

[Goyo]

Welcome to Nicaragua! We teach English at a school in Masatepe and have been here almost 2 years. We love going to SJDS & watching those sunsets over the bay. Bienvenidos!

[Tuesday]

You have no idea how excited I am for you. Not only because you're starting fresh in a beautiful county, but also because I was just recently there and get a thrill from recognizing cities and such. We stayed in Granada and Ometepe. It's so hot there but the water will cool you down. Your new house is beautiful and I love the rocking chairs. So Nicaragua. I was amazed that people would open up there houses to the street and rock and socialize. I had thought these places were hotels, that's how open everything is. Great people, great food - man I miss the food. And so close to Costa Rica.
I've posted my photos online at: http://photos.yahoo.com/central_america_2005
Good Luck! I wish you well.

[Connie]

Congrats on the new casa. We will be in Nicaragua for about 7 weeks this summer maybe we can share a cold beer down on the beach as the sun set. Playa Coco is probably my favorite beach but I am sure we will hang out a little a SJDS a little too.
Connie

[kita]

Well you were quite right that Hector Sr. would not show you what you like . We are going to our home in Remanso on 29 of April . We may stop for a cervesa if you give a better description of your location Erik

[george ferguson]

Really enjoyed your articles. jan and i are planning to come to nicaragua october 1 to october 31 neither of us speak spanish yet. how in the heck am i going to get around. is there persons who can act as guides/interpreters while we look for a place to rent away from the capital? we may be older but we are not interested in the high life. cant afford it anyway. thanks.